


Sweet Nothings

by ThePlotMurderer



Category: The Young and the Restless
Genre: Bedtime Stories, Crack Pairing, Fluff, Folk Music, Guitar, M/M, Maybe mid-life crisis?, Snow, You Decide, obvy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9540959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePlotMurderer/pseuds/ThePlotMurderer
Summary: Billy is summoned to help Reed in his babysitting duties. He doesn't expect he'll need to help Reed in the process, or that Reed will, in his own way, help him.Inspired by the plain fact that Jason Thompson has chemistry with everything.





	

Sweet Nothings

 

Life was rough. It was fast, it was merciless, cruel, unrelenting, and a slicker son of a bitch than even Billy Abbott could ever have hoped to overcome. He wasn't sure when, exactly, he'd first become aware of this fact. When he'd realized, in the most 'wealthy brat' way', that life wasn't gonna be all girls and guitars and bright, toothy grins.

Sometime before the kids, sure, before Vick, definitely. And yet the reality hadn't been as pressing on him before as it was now.

The cold night air bit sharply at his neck, his face and cheeks. Billy had kept the collar of his coat turned up against the wind since he'd left the lab, for all the good it did.

Victoria's car still wasn't in the driveway, indicating she had _not_ cut her business trip short, but Billy could tell from the pale light through the living room curtain that there was someone home.

_Rules out the 'Parent Trap' plot, though_ , he thought with mild humor. Good. He was afraid his mother might have started giving the kid some ideas...

Billy raised his hand to knock on the door, but hesitated when he heard a sharp squeal of girlish laughter. Katie, he recognized the voice at once. She was laughing and clapping...the subtler, somewhat more slobbery overtones behind her must have been her brother. He'd inherited all of his Dad's grace, that one.

There was music playing, a bit too faint for Billy to process in its entirety, but he could tell at once it was a guitar.

Of course it was.

So Billy reached under the flowerpot adjacent to the door, for the spare key Victoria had kept there since Billy had (without a drop of alcohol in his system, mind you) locked them both out of the house in a thunderstorm.

He quietly unlocked the door, not at all looking to interrupt this little impromptu concert his kids were enjoying.

The house was warm and cozy, dimly lit. Billy could smell forbidden pizza from the kitchen. He pictured the inevitable look of horror on Victoria's face, and bit back a laugh.

Johnny and Katie were dancing, in weird, spastic, very toddler-ish fashion on the living room carpet. There didn't seem to be much effort to go along with the rhythm or the tune of the music, but in their defense, the tune wasn't exactly the danciest.

It was lilting, rising and falling in a predictable rhythm, more like a lullaby. From where he stood in the living room doorway, Billy could make out the back of the musician's head..tousled hair and a plaid-patterned scarf, draped lazily and shawl-like over narrow shoulders.

He sang along with the music, in a soft and surprisingly smooth voice, “ _Rows and flows of angel hair, and ice cream castles in the air. And feather canyons everywhere. I've looked at clouds that way._ ”

Reed sat on the sofa, leg crossed beam-like over the knee, and the guitar balanced at an angle over it. He had eyes only for the kids, and yet, from where he stood, Billy could make out a dreamy, almost sad sort of cast to his face.

He began to recognize the song.

“ _But now they only block the sun. they rain and snow on everyone. So many things I could've done, but clouds got in my way_...”

Johnny paused a moment in his spastic revelry to stare, with big, globular eyes past Reed to Billy. He beamed a gummy, triumphant beam, as if he'd won some sort of mega-sized _Where's Waldo?_ competition.

Billy couldn't keep back a chuckle. He held a finger to his lips, looking pointedly to Reed out of the corner of his eye. Johnny, eyes gleaming wickedly, seemed to get the idea.

“ _I've looked at clouds from both sides now... From up and down, and still somehow it's cloud's illusions I recall. I really don't know..._ ”

“Daddy!” Katie cried buoyantly, the mangled world melting into a peal of giggles, as Reed let up his playing with a cry and a hastily muffled curse.

“Sonuvabi...”

“Billy for short,” Billy said smoothly, lest the kids get any more than their daily quota of spontaneous profanity.

“B-Billy...” Reed was struggling to catch his breath, a ruddy flush coming into his cheeks, “S-sorry. About that.”

“Don't sweat it,” Billy shrugged off his coat, struggling to keep his balance as both Johnny and Katie suddenly seemed to think it would be excellent sport to straddle him by the legs like excited dogs, “I got your text, man, got the impression these two were holding you for ransom.”

Katie made a guttural noise somewhat approximating Billy's idea of a grizzly bear pirate. Clearly, Billy's assumptions must have some ground to them.

“You kidding?” Reed shrugged, mustering up a weird, half-laugh, “We're having a great time. Really throwing it down.”

Johnny blurted something that sounded vaguely like, “It's lit!”, and proceeded to execute a strange little motion with his arms.

“I didn't teach him how to dab.” Reed said, as though he expected Billy to beat him about the head.

“Nah, I think his cousin Faith did.” Billy answered smoothly, dabbing in response, although judging by the sudden pain in his neck, this was clearly more of a young man's game.

Young _er_ man, that is.

“I'm sorry if I, like, dragged you from work or something...” said Reed, putting the guitar aside and getting to his feet.

“It _was_ very painful abandoning the quarterly spreadsheets, not gonna lie,” Billy spoke through a straight face which, in proper Dad joke fashion, had the intended result of Reed cracking a smile, however guilty, “But I've got three jobs and these...” he hoisted the two kids, laughing delightedly in his arms, “Are two of 'em. So what's up?”

“Yeah, so...” Reed patted Johnny lightly on the small of his back, “ _this_ guy's refusing to go to sleep, and...”

“And whatever _he_ does,” Billy looked shiftily at Katie, “She does, right?”

Reed nodded, “That's it. He was asking for you.”

“You _were_?” Billy narrowed his eyes in mock-consternation, returning his attention to his son, “What's up, Big Guy? Reed not crazy enough for ya?”

Johnny held his tongue between his teeth in an expression Billy had long ago come to associate with willful mischief, “Winebone Cowboy!”

“I thought it might be a kids show, or something,” Reed explained, “I tried Googling it...” his tone indicated he'd found everything _but_ kids shows.

“Well, that's not surprising,” said Billy, “Rhinestone Cowboy's my sole creative property.” he added, “It's a bedtime story.”

“...Oh,” Reed nodded, “Right.”

But Billy had already plopped down on the couch, Johnny and Katie neatly arranged side by side in his lap.

“You little hoodlums want a story?” Billy asked in his patented 'Old Man of the Mountain' voice, “Well, you're gonna get one!”

Reed stood a little to the side, watching with a vaguely bemused smile on his face.

“So...once upon a long time ago, when rock was young,” Billy began, noting with some pleasure that even Katie was mouthing along in a vague approximation of what he was saying. This is what was called 'practical education', in all Vick's fancy parenting magazines.

“...there was a famous Cowboy, who rode in all the rodeos, all around the world, from the great American heartland to...” pointed pause.

“Fences!” said Katie with glee.

“The canals of distant Venice,” Billy allowed.

“Buffalo Bill!” supplied Johnny.

“And the cold infernal wastes of upstate New York.”

Billy could only hope that was just a side effect of Johnny watching too much football with the old man, and not some accidental exposure to _Silence of the Lambs_.

Reed, Billy noted from out of the corner of his eye, was starting to edge a little bit out of the room, “Don't cut out on us now, Music Man. Give us a soundtrack!”

Reed paused, let out a little incredulous laugh, and recollected his guitar, sitting in the armchair next to the sofa. He began to play a quick, jaunty little ditty...Western stock music, but more flashy than these bedtime stories usually got.

“And for every Rodeo he rode in, the Cowboy won a little star,”

Katie gasped, as was her wont, prompting Billy to add, “I know, right? Where can I sign up?”

Reed was grinning over his guitar, but for some reason he averted his eyes when Billy looked up to wink at him.

“And the stars were all different colors. Green, and red, and yellow...”

“And azoot!” said Johnny proudly.

“ _Si, mio hermano_.” Billy could only assume that Noah had been teaching his cousin Spanish on the side, because Johnny had a mortal terror of Dora the Explorer, and there was no other explanation.

“...he wore all the stars he won. Some he put in his hat...” he ruffled Johnny's hair, “...and some he put on his sleeves...” a quick tickle on the forearm, to Katie's delight, “and some on his boots...”

He made to plant a gross, sloppy kiss on Johnny's foot, but the kid was well-practiced, and aimed a square kick before Billy could attempt it.

So...clearly he was outgrowing _some_ things. What a relief.

“What about his scarf?” Reed piped in, lifting one hand from his guitar to adjust his own scarf around his neck.

“Who's tellin' the story, here?” Billy asked.

“He's a cowboy. Cowboys have scarves.” Reed grinned, “I don't make the rules.”

“Fine, he put them in his scarf too, for some reason,” Billy adjusted himself in his seat, “And he used the scarves...”

“ _Stars!_ ” corrected Katie.

“Yeah, the stars,” Billy shot Reed a dirty look, as the kid contentedly resumed his music.

“He used the stars to remind him of all his victories, and of all the cool stuff he'd done. And one day, the Cowboy was riding around, and he stopped at a well, to get some water for his horse.”

He could feel Katie's stinkeye on him, so he quickly amended, “ _Purple_ horse. And at this well, he met a lady, and around this lady's neck, she had a necklace, and hanging from that necklace was the biggest star he'd ever seen.”

Brief pause to impart the gravity of the situation.

“So, obviously, our guy wants the star. It's one of those 'Gotta Catch 'Em All' things. So he goes up to the lady, and he says to her...”

He cleared his throat, preparing the Marlon Brandon impression (he'd have tried John Wayne, but Katie got frightened), “Little lady...”

Reed blurted out a laugh between unevenly shut lips, interrupting his guitar playing. Billy gave him a look, and he continued, with a certain distracted quality.

“...now I don't want to be foewud, but that is the most pretty little stah I evah did see...” return to normal voice, “So he asks her what she wants for it.”

“You tell your kids a bedtime story about a guy holding up a lady for jewelry?” Reed interrupted.

“I never said he was holding her up! Anyway...the lady says 'Well, sir, this little star's very important to me. I can't just give it to anybody'. So she tells the Rhinestone Cowboy...”

“I was wondering when we were getting a Title Drop.”

“A what?” Billy blinked, “Oh...yeah. Shut up.” returning his attention to his audience, he progressed, “...she'll give him the star, if he can help her, back home at the farm. You see, the lady was all alone...Mom and Dad weren't around anymore, and it ain't easy running the family business all by your lonesome.”

He sighed, for dramatic effect, “So she tells the Cowboy that, if he can help her around the farm, she'll give him her Star, as a reward. But that would mean...no more rodeos, no more fame. Did he really want that one extra star so much?”

“Kinda losing track of the plot, here, man,”said Reed.

“You see them complaining?” Billy indicated his kids to either side of him, now both sleeping with all appropriate sound-effects, “It's a wild night when they're not already conked out halfway through.”

“Nice,” Reed put the guitar aside, “Let me help you take them up.”

He picked up Katie, with an ease that was surprising and reassuring. Billy picked up Johnny and started up the stairs, Reed a little bit behind him.

“Cool story, though,” Reed allowed, “Sounds kinda familiar.”

“Yeah, I cribbed it from a Sunday school lesson. The one with Jacob and the well. Rhinestone Cowboy doesn't have to wait 14 years to marry her, though.”

“They get married? Spoiler alert, dude.” Reed grinned over his shoulder, nudging open the door to Katie's room.

“Well, it takes some time. He's got to prove he cares about more than his stars and stuff.”

“Does he sell 'em to save the farm?” Reed asked, setting Katie down gently in her crib.

“You know, that twist still works really great for two-year-olds,” Billy started down the hall to set Johnny down in his room.

“I bet. Still a nice story.”

Billy smiled at Reed as he rejoined him on the landing, “And you're pretty good on that guitar.”

“You think so?” Reed started down the stairs, hands in his pockets.

“Uh-huh. I like the song, too. Your stepmom teach it to you?”

Reed paused at the bottom of the stairs, turning around to look up at Billy, “...yeah, she did. She used to play it for Dylan and me. Well, Dylan got more out of it, I guess...always put him right to sleep.”

“I bet,” Billy nodded over to the couch, sitting down and indicating Reed should do the same, “Yeah, Mac used to love that one. She had the .45, Joni Mitchell...”

It had been a gift, Billy remembered, from Katherine, the first Christmas after Mac had moved into the Chancellor Mansion. Mac had played the thing to death, but she loved the last song most of all. Billy had never really gotten why...it was depressing.

“ _But it isn't,_ ” she would tell him, “ _Not really. It's about how...life's what you make it._ ”

“ _So, if I think it's depressing, I'm doing something wrong?_ ”

And Mac would shrug, that girlish twinkle he'd loved so much lighting up her eyes.

“It's the first song I learned to play,” Reed said, a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes, his attention hovering to the guitar where he'd put it down.

Billy collected the guitar, hefting it lightly back to a surprised Reed, “I think I interrupted you, before.”

“What? When?”

“The clouds part.”

“Oh...” Reed laughed, embarrassed, “Yeah. It's okay.”

“That was a hint, you know,” Billy shrugged, “It's been a... _hell_ of a day. Maybe I could use a lullaby, too.”

“Um...okay,” Reed bit his lip, positioning his guitar just so, and gradually getting back to playing.

“ _Moons and Junes and ferris wheels. The dizzy, dancing way you feel...when every fairytale comes real... I've thought of love that way_.”

Billy leaned back in his seat, listening to the music, yet not quite processing it in his head. His eyes fell on a little stuffed giraffe, left dropped by the bookcase. Johnny's...a present from Jill, from when he first came home from the hospital.

It was a different house, then, though, and a different life. Married life... _happy_ life, with two of the best kids he could have ever asked for.

“ _Now it's just another show. You leave them laughing when you go. And if you care, don't let them know. They'll only turn away._ ”

Yes, it was a different life now. A lonelier life, and a sadder life...still two kids, though, and Billy was happy for that. But there were only two where there should have been three.

“ _I've looked at love from both sides now. From give and take, and still somehow it's...love's illusions I recall. I really don't know..._ ” the voice petered out, and Billy returned, with a bit of a shock, to the present.

Reed was sitting quietly, still and somewhat solemn, his fingers slightly tremulous on the strings of the instrument.

“You okay?” Billy asked, his own voice sounding strangely foreign to him.

“Oh...uh...” Reed nodded, “Y-yeah...um, sorry. I kinda...” a dry cough, “You ever just, like, get lost in your head?”

“You don't even wanna know,” but the attempt at humor fell flat. Billy had a sense this was deeper than it appeared, “What's up?”

“You don't wanna hear it, Billy. Really, it's not...”

“Try me.” he spread his arms wide, “I'm in _no_ place to judge, kid.”

“I was just thinking of...well, when I was last here,” he looked around the quiet, dimly lit house, “For...uh...” he stopped, as if saying the words might cause some irreparable damage.

“Delia's funeral,” said Billy.

Reed looked surprised Billy had acknowledged it, “...yeah. I miss her sometimes, you know? I mean...obviously, you miss her.”

Billy said nothing to that. Reed was struggling to look him in the face, his hands twisting together in consternation.

“I remember, whenever I came up to visit, she was always so happy to see me...” Reed sighed heavily, “I don't know what I did to make her like me so much.”

Billy shrugged, “You were a good stepbrother. Of course Dee loved you.”

“Katie looks like her, a bit,” Reed spoke with a halting unevenness, as if afraid he might suddenly lose courage, “I noticed tonight, they...they have the same smile.”

“They do,” Billy agreed, “And the same eyes... And she's shapin' up to be too smart for her own good, like her sister.”

“I just...a lot has changed, hasn't it?” Reed looked up to meet Billy's eyes, and Billy was surprised to find tears shimmering there, “You and Mom, and...and I have a little sister now, and...and I...”

“Reed?” Billy had never really been very good at this whole 'comforting the distraught' deal...and he'd never dared attempt it with teenagers, “Reed, it's...”

“I just don't know what the hell I'm even doing. And, I don't know, maybe it's just me being some stupid, spoiled kid, just like everyone else thinks...”

“No one thinks that,” said Billy automatically, but Reed clearly didn't believe him, and Billy wasn't sure he believed himself.

“I came back here,because....because I just...I thought this could be home, you know? Genoa City, it's...it's always felt more like home. But I'm here now, and...”

“And it still isn't home.”

Reed looked over at him, one tear escaping to roll smoothly down his cheek, “I'm not ungrateful, it's not that. I dunno, maybe it's part of growing up, but I just don't feel like...like anywhere is home. Not the same way that it used to.”

He let out a shaky sob, setting the guitar aside, “I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense...”

“No,” Billy said firmly, with so much conviction that it surprised even him, “No, I understand. Suddenly, everything's unfamiliar, strange...you feel like an outsider looking in. Shut out. I get it.”

“You do?”

Billy rolled his shoulders, any debate he might have had about whether this was an appropriate thing to say effectively neutered by Reed's distress.

“'Fraid so...preexisting condition. Just when you think you've got everything under control...” he snapped his fingers, “suddenly, everyone's against you. Yeah, maybe sometimes I deserved it, but... I've come to an understanding about it.”

Reed looked over at Billy, and suddenly he looked equal parts like Vicky, like JT, even Mac and...somewhere, someway, like Billy a thousand years ago.

“It wasn't 'Me vs. the World',” Billy shrugged, “It was Me vs. Me. I don't know if you know this, but I can be a bit of an ass sometimes.”

Reed laughed through his tears, “I never noticed.”

“And you're too good a guy to admit it.” Billy leaned forward, putting a hand tentatively on Reed's shoulder, “Listen... I made some pretty bad mistakes when I was your age. And I've made worse ones since then, believe me. Call it a fatal flaw, like the Rhinestone Cowboy not wanting to sell his stars.”

“I thought you said he did?”

“Look, I've never been allowed to finish the story, okay? I don't choose to admit if I've made some sort of mistake, if I've screwed things up. And, I've learned, if you don't admit one mistake...suddenly, you don't want to admit any. But you're not like me, not like that.”

Reed raised a shaking hand to wipe at a tear, “Y-you don't think so?”

“You're a good man. And you're smarter than I was...more caring. You feel shut-out right now, but that's because you don't know what to make of yourself.”

“They have in-office therapy at Brash and Sassy, now?” Reed asked with a chuckle.

“Nah, but I could probably make a killing off it. Cane's not as boring as he looks.”

Only half a lie, but it made Reed laugh, which was the intent.

“Maybe you're right,” Reed nodded, “Maybe...maybe I'm just freaked out about myself. Like, on the bus ride over here...it's...I don't know how to describe it. I blinked, and...and suddenly it felt like I'd just woken up from some kinda dream. I felt...”

“Awake?”

Reed looked at him, tears dripping unevenly down onto his sweater, “Alive. For the first time in a long time. I wasn't ashamed. I was alone, and free, and...and _doing_ something, you know. It didn't feel so much like running away.”

“Running away? From what...your Dad, that whole Warsaw thing?” No, that didn't seem like it, “Reed...what did you have to be ashamed of?”

“It's...its nothing,” Reed said hastily, “Really, it's...”

“It's not nothing. Not if it's bothering you like this,” Billy squeezed lightly on Reed's shoulder, “Come on. You can tell me.”

“You wouldn't...”

Billy cut him off, “ _Try me._ ”

Reed held that gaze, breath coming quick and shallow. Billy reached out with his free hand and, not quite thinking, wiped away another tear before it could drip down off his chin.

And it was then, as Billy brushed his once-stepson's chin, that Reed leaned forward and kissed him. It was sudden yet, in its way, gentle. Billy felt the arm of the sofa beneath him, just as he felt his hand slip off Reed's shoulder. His heart seemed to be doing a polka in his chest. He could smell pizza on Reed's breath, and some earthy, musky woodsy sort of scent that clung to his clothes.

Billy lifted his hands up from where they'd dropped, gently pushing Reed off of him. Reed was breathing deeply, his face pale, yet alive, working.

He seemed to want to say something, but he didn't seem able to find the words.

Billy didn't need to see the kid make himself suffer anymore. He kissed him back, wrapping his arms around him.

_This is wrong, this is wrong, Jesus Christ, he's just a kid...he's_ Vick's _kid, what the hell are you thinking?_

But that little voice in his head was drowned out quite quickly. Reed had his hands running through Billy's hair, so Billy reciprocated, tangling his fingers through that messy mop of hair, bringing them down to the knot where the scarf was loosely tied around his neck.

Reed's nose brushed lightly against Billy's forehead, and Billy realized with a start that he could look right up into Reed's eyes. They were blue, and deep... Not quite Vicky's eyes, not quite J.T's... There was an innocence to them, a quiet, maybe frightened innocence. Part of Billy was ashamed to even be looking at them...

_You're taking advantage. He's hurt, he's lonely, he's feeling fucked up, this isn't your right..._

And yet, somehow, that same innocence only compelled Billy further. When had he seen it last? Had he ever, on a face so comparatively _old_?

He nodded slowly, and undid the scarf around Reed's neck, letting it fall to the floor beside them. Reed traced his lips down a gentle line on Billy's neck. Billy lifted a hand to his collar, suddenly aware of how hot it was, how stuffy... His fingers met Reed's just over his tie. The kid's hand was shaking, clammy, and when it met Billy's, it faltered.

So Billy guided Reed's hand to his tie, and allowed him to undo it, with the hesitating confusion of a boy who hasn't had to do all too many ties in his life.

He heard a thud, then another. Reed had kicked off his combat boots, letting them come up against the leg of the coffee table.

His lips were on Billy's again, soft and gentle, pliable and uncertain. Billy could see the old tears on his face, but that's all they were...old and drying, little salty specks, legacies of his sorrow, his isolation, his stupid, adolescent turmoil.

Billy's own adolescent turmoil was about twenty years over its welcome.

He felt a sudden pressure on the small of his back, as Reed tightened his hold on him, so suddenly that they both rolled free of the couch and onto the carpet.

“Ah...” Reed gasped out, looking up at Billy, on top of him now, “B-Billy, I'm...”

“No...” Billy rolled off Reed, lying beside him on the floor, in the narrow canyon between the couch and the coffee table, “No, don't be.”

He saw Reed reach out his hand, but withdraw it, as if afraid. Billy caught it, and held Reed there, hand in hand on the floor, surrounded by discarded toys and unread picture books and all the chaotic, yet happy artifacts of a happy home.

The house was quiet, but for the sound of the two mens' breath, in and out in tandem. That, and a soft, kissing sort of sound on the windowpanes.

“It's snowing,” Reed said suddenly.

So it was, Billy noticed, turning around to see the flakes sticking to the window.

“Yeah,” he looked over at Reed, squeezing his hand a bit tighter, “Come on,” he got to his feet, allowing Reed to stand up alongside him, “Kitchen.”

Reed nodded, looking somewhat confused, following Billy over to the kitchen. He _had_ kicked off his boots, Billy saw. He wore green socks, with yellow stripes.

Jesus Christ.

“Should be up here, somewhere,” he nodded to the china cabinet opposite the stove.

“Uh...what?”

“Bingo,” Billy fetched the bottle of scotch from the neat little alcove in the top of the cabinet, “Get two glasses from the cupboard, will ya? The tumblers...little round ones.”

“Is that...booze?”

“Don't tell your Mom I showed you where it's hidden. Then she'd just move it again, and I'd probably never figure out where.”

“Um...I'm not exactly old enough to drink, Billy.”

“Consider me your chaperone,” Billy set the bottle down on the table, nodding toward the cabinet where the glasses were kept, “First drink...first kiss. Not a bad mix.”

Reed stopped in his tracks at the cabinet door, “First kiss?”

“Wasn't it?”

Reed looked at him for some time, but he finally got two glasses from the cupboard and brought them over to the table.

“I'm sorry,” Reed began, pulling out the chair across from Billy.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Billy opened the bottle and poured a generous half glass, first for Reed, then for himself, “I mean that. I shouldn't have...taken advantage.”

“I kissed you first,” Reed sighed, “I just...I don't know what's wrong with me, Billy.”

“Nothing, and don't ever let anyone tell you different,” he took a sip of his scotch, eyeing Reed's glass, “Come on. Not much fun drinking alone.”

Reed looked at his glass, biting on his lip. He picked up the glass and took a swig, maybe a little too fast, as he got at once to sputtering, his eyes watering again.

“Maybe shoulda given you a disclaimer first,” Billy conceded, smiling for Reed's benefit as he clapped him on the shoulder, “Take it easy.”

Reed nodding, clearing his throat, “You're not...upset I kissed you?”

Billy hesitated, “...no. But I'm starting to think you didn't invite me over just for storytime.”

Reed shook his head, “You're just....you're not like the others, Billy. You _listen_ , you care...I wish I were more like you. Maybe that's why...” he petered out, taking another sip from the glass.

“Funny,” said Billy, “Lately, more and more since you came back, I've been wishing I were more like _yo_ _u._ ”

“Wait, what?” Reed blinked, “Billy, you don't have to say...”

“I'm not. Reed, you're a good man, and a kind man. And you deserve to be loved. You deserve to belong...maybe more than I ever did.”

Reed's mouth twitched into an odd expression, almost like a smile, but a sad one, “Well, you deserve all that too.”

“Maybe. Some day. But you...Reed, you're young. Sure, maybe I have a moral compass, but that thing only came around five or ten years ago, depending on who you ask. Don't ask your Grandpa, he'll claim it doesn't exist.”

Reed laughed despite himself, taking another sip.

“You deserve to be loved by someone who...who loves as much as you do, Reed. Who cares, who laughs, who...who takes care of other people, the way you do.”

Reed seemed to get what Billy was talking about, “I was just playing guitar for your kids, Billy. It wasn't really...”

Billy shook his head, “More than that. You've got a good heart. No dissing your Dad, but that's from your mom. And no dissing your Mom, but I think you've whole lot more heart than a lot of this crazy family of ours.”

Reed turned a faint shade of pink, turning away to look out at the snow collecting in the dried flowerbeds outside.

“I can't love you the way you deserve, Reed. But I...I _can_ love you for that heart you have, for how much...how much good you've done for your Mom, for Johnny and Katie...for me too, since you've been back.”

“I guess...I guess I can't ask for much else,” Reed turned back to Billy. His eyes were glimmering again, but he looked anything but sad, “Thank you Billy. For every...”

He was cut short by the mounted phone ringing, so hard it was shaking on the receiver.

“You guys still use your landline?” Billy asked rhetorically, getting up and crossing to the phone, “Yo?”

“...Billy?” the familiar voice, echoing in some sort of weird, locked-room sort of quality, “What are you doing at the house? Is...is everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, everything's fine, Vick,” he answered, looking meaningfully at Reed, who went sort of slack jawed, “Johnny just needed a bedtime story.”

“Rhinestone Cowboy?” Victoria guessed at once.

“You got it. Katie's probably sick of it by now, but she puts up with it for her brother.”

“Must be a family trait,” but there was a laugh in her voice as she said it, “I guess Reed's been tuckered out?”

Billy looked across at Reed, and smiled reassuringly at him, “Yeah, he's out cold. But he held his own.”

“That's good to hear,” Vicky paused, as if considering.

“So, how did the meeting go?” Billy asked, in a perhaps pointed effort to distract from more familial topics, “Bet you slayed those suits where they sat.” He winked at Reed, who suppressed a laugh behind one hand.

“You could say that. I got them to agree to carry Brash and Sassy for a 25%...”

Assorted business talk. Billy was getting antsy. Reed was swirling the scotch in the glass around, staring down into the dregs, as if looking for shapes in the bubbles.

“...I'd be headed home tonight if it weren't for this snowstorm.”

“S-snowstorm?” Billy repeated, looking over at the still relatively relaxed snowfall outside, “Really?”

“Yeah, flights are grounded at O'Hare.” she hesitated, “...Billy, would you do me a favor?”

“Uh...yeah, sure. Anything.”

“Since you're already there, could you maybe...stay the night?” she paused for half a second before quickly adding, “It's not that I don't trust Reed, or anything, I just...well, I had my concerns. He's got problems of his own, you know? Teenage boy stuff.”

“You think so?” Billy asked, the part of him that hated playing this game not at all as overpowering as the part that knew it must be played.

“You've noticed. There's something bothering him...I've asked J.T, and he isn't sure. But, Billy...” she sighed, “I want to apologize.”

_Apologize? Jesus, she must be feeling pretty bad._

“For what?”

“You and Reed...” Billy felt his heart sort of skip in his chest. He could see Reed, standing now, by the window, the nearly drained glass of scotch in his hand, feigning interest in the snow outside.

“I shouldn't have come down so hard on you for taking an interest in him,” she continued, “He...he needs someone in his life. Not necessarily a father figure, but...”

“ _No_ , no, not that at all.” Billy replied, maybe too quickly.

“...someone to confide in. And he looks up to you.”

“I...uh...think I've started catching on to that myself.” he chuckled, “Never knew I was so popular.”

Victoria laughed exasperatedly, “So can I take that as a 'Mission, accepted'?”

“Roger, that,”

“Thanks, Billy. Really. I'll try to be home as fast as I can, come tomorrow.”

“I'll hold down the fort. You get some rest now. Pop some corks, celebrate your victory.”

“I might just.” a final, lilting sigh, “Bye, now.”

“Take care.” Billy hung up, turning back to Reed with a sigh, “Mom says hi.”

Reed nodded slowly, “You didn't tell her. About...”

“No. I didn't.”

Reed smiled, setting his emptied glass down on the table. When he spoke, it was in a distant sort of voice, “I'll need to tell her, though. Not...I mean, about _us_. I'm sorry, I don't mean ' _us_ ' like...”

“I get it,” Billy felt an odd mix of guilt and relief, “But when you do tell her, you want it to be on your own terms.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Reed started out of the kitchen, back to the living room, “I just...I hope she gets it.”

“She will.” Billy patted him on the shoulder, “And even if she doesn't get it...but she will...you just stick to who you are. Because if you don't, if you change yourself for the rest of the world, that's the only way you come out of this a loser, Reed.”

Reed nodded, relaxing his shoulders, “I'll remember that.”

They stood there, at the bottom of the stairs for a short while. Just when Billy was about to say some parting words of his own, Reed wrapped his arms around him in an embrace.

“Thanks, Billy.”

Billy, getting over his surprise, started to say 'Don't mention it', but thought better of it, “Thank _you_ , Reed.”

He pulled back, “Uh...question.”

“Yeah?”

“The...the third verse of that song. It's, yanno, ' _Years and cheers and..._ '”

“ _Tears and fears and feeling proud_ ,” Reed corrected, “ _Say 'I love you' right out loud._ ”

“Ah. Thanks.” a decisive nod, “G'night, man. See you in the morning.”

Reed did look a little surprised that Billy was staying the night, but he gave no comment besides a little smile and a, “Night, Billy.”

He continued up the stairs. Billy stood there, listening, until he heard the thud of the door shut. Letting out a tremendous sigh, he returned to the sofa, feeling as though a great burden had been removed from him, only for a new one to descend quite promptly in its place.

There was a length of plaid wool strewn carelessly just out from under the couch. Reed's scarf. Billy picked it up, and began to wind it slowly around his arm, the way his mother always insisted Esther fold _her_ scarves, though Jill much preferred to do them herself anyway.

His eyes fell on the guitar leaning against the armchair. Reed didn't seem like the kind of kid who would just leave such a thing lying around. Tonight must have weighed on him.

_Well, of course it did, you idiot_. _Isn't it weighing on you?_

Billy looked down at the scarf, wrapped now around his wrist, and he let out a broken little breath. He felt dirty, treacherous, gross and manipulative...and yet, on the other side, he also felt a sort of warmth, a sort of pulse deep within him that he hadn't felt in a long time.

It wasn't so much a youthful feeling, as it was a nostalgic feeling and, somewhere wrapped up in that, a happy one too.

_'You're not like the rest. Maybe that's why..._ '

He put the scarf aside and, in one fluid motion, leaned forward to collect the guitar from where it stood.

It had been a long time, yet Billy still had the basics down. He plucked, at first hesitantly, but gradually gaining traction as he remembered the song by ear.

“ _Tears, and fears and feelin' proud..._ ' he sang it quietly, the words, and so much else, returning as he did.

“... _say 'I love you' right out loud. Schemes and dreams and...circus crowds. I thought of life that way._ ”

The snow kept piling up on the window outside. Gentle, eddying flakes stacking up...inches now since Reed had first pointed them out. Billy could really believe there was a snowstorm now. Enough to keep Victoria grounded in Chicago, and to keep him snowbound here with his kids, with his memories, and with Reed...whatever Reed was.

“ _But now old friends are acting strange. They shake their heads, they say I've changed. Well..._ ” he faltered, remembering, no noise but the kisses of the snowflakes against the windowpane, quick and insistent and incessant as the kisses of the man who had been his stepson.

“... _something's lost and something's gained, in living every day._ ”

Billy kept on through the chorus, playing so slowly that one, at a distance, may have been forgiven for briefly thinking he'd stopped.

“ _I've looked at life from both sides now... From win and lose, and still somehow it's life's illusions I recall..._ ”

One tear dropped freely down to the guitar, then two, and Billy admitted to himself that he was crying, though he wasn't sure exactly why.

“ _I really don't know life at all._ ”

 

 


End file.
